who i am hates who i've been (and who i've been has only ever made me)
by Sorry I Just Did
Summary: Lucifer doesn't understand why Chloe did what she did. Chloe doesn't understand why Lucifer reacts the way he reacts. Two imperfect people realize that they are just that-imperfect, and that's okay. AKA Lucifer and Chloe (mostly Chloe) talk about their feelings, a lot. A kind of fix-it but basically it's the same thing with more feelings.
1. i

**A/N:** this is my first venture into the Lucifer fandom and it's a cathartic exploration of the reveal. It's just me working through how I felt about the reveal through explicit conversations about everyone's feelings. Let me know what you think!

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing. Netflix renew Lucifer for a fifth season.

* * *

He wasn't supposed to find out like this. He wasn't supposed to find out _at all,_ and now he's caught her in a lie and she knows how bad this looks.

"Why would you send me back there, Detective? After everything, do you think that I deserved to be punished for who I am?"

They're in his penthouse and he's looming. He has this way of making himself seem larger when he's angry. She always thought it was because he seemed slightly crazed when he gets angry but now she understands that it's because his anger rolls off of him in Lucifer-sized waves, nearly doubling his size. He holds himself back, and when he's angry, she thinks this is what he truly feels like all of the time.

But she's not going to be cowed into regretting what she's done, because she's _allowed_ to be afraid, to try and make sense of what it actually means for him to be the actual, literal _Devil_.

"Because you're the Devil, Lucifer! You _torture_ souls and _hurt _people. It's not safe for you to be here! You do bad things and bad things happen to people around you and I can't let that be near _my _family," she shoots back at him, desperate for him to understand he can't just expect her to be _okay_ with The Devil. That's not how this works.

He strides towards her, moving like the floor is on fire, like he's on fire from the inside out, his face so flushed with anger that he might as well be as he shouts, "Haven't you been listening, Detective? Humans torture _themselves_. Their own guilt picks out the weapon and I'm simply the one who has to wield it. My presence doesn't make people do bad things, humans have those dark, twisted desires already. It doesn't matter if I'm here or in Hell, you humans will rip each other apart for anything. But I get blamed for all of it even if I'm not holding the weapon." He enunciates each sentence carefully as if that will make her understand that this isn't _his_ fault.

She deflates a little bit, this is not what she meant. "Lucifer, that's not what I meant," she tells him. Because even though it's not his fault, it's not hers either.

He scoffs and gestures for her to clarify, "No, then please, Detective, clarify what you meant. Is it that I'm a danger to humanity? To your family? Do you believe that I am dangerous?"

"No, Lucifer, I don't—"

She begins but he cuts her off, "Then, what is it Detective? Why do you think I belong back in Hell?"

She rubs her forehead, this is _not_ what she wanted, this is not at all what she meant. Everything's spinning out of control and beyond what she's been trying to say and she doesn't know how to get the conversation back on track.

"I don't, Lucifer! That's what I've been trying to say! That even if you are the Devil, even if you did do those things, that you don't anymore and that you're _trying_ to be better. That's what matters—not what you did in the past, but what you do now." She has to make him understand.

"But you still think I did those things? Hitler, Hiroshima, Ted Bundy? All of humanities worst nightmares happened at my beckoning?"

"I don't know what I believe, Lucifer."

"Why don't you just _ask_ me?"

"And what will you say, Lucifer?"

"The truth, Chloe. Always the truth."

"I'm sorry, Lucifer! I was _scared_. What was I supposed to think, finding out that my partner, the man I let babysit _my child_, is the actual _Devil_?"

He leans away from her as if _she's_ the dangerous one in room, as if she's the one who is like an unpinned grenade, and it guts her deeper than anything ever had. "Not this, Detective. I had expected you to run away, take Trixie and never return, and when you were gone for a month with no word, I almost believed it. But never this. I never expected you to betray me like this," he states, the last of the words barely making it out of his mouth.

"I didn't mean to, Lucifer. I'm _sorry_," she pleads, and she feels something wet roll down her cheek. Shit, she's crying now. That shocks her into herself and she's suddenly acutely aware of the knot in her throat, twisting her up and turning her inside out. She nearly can't breathe, the guilt is so strong.

He sighs, "Yes, well, we both know what you very well meant, now don't we?"

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**A/N: **let me know what your thoughts are in the comments!


	2. ii

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing. Netflix renew Lucifer for a fifth season.

* * *

She's in Linda's office because it's been weeks since she's heard from Lucifer, and she's admittedly going a little crazy. Not knowing how he's doing is decidedly worse than knowing what he is. She doesn't know how much he's hurting and she doesn't know how she can fix it.

So she came to Linda. The therapist has some magic to her that seems to worm its way under Chloe's skin, seeking out where she hurts like a missile, and bringing it to the surface like it's been drowning and can finally breathe in air. She hopes Linda can help her dig out the deep pit that's been living in her throat.

"Linda, I don't know what to do. Lucifer hasn't come in to work in two weeks, he's not picking up my phone calls and the penthouse is always empty when I go there. I know he's in town because the Corvette is still parked outside Lux but he's avoiding me."

Linda looks at her sympathetically from her chair, "Chloe, he needs space to process everything. He gave you space when you needed it, now it's his turn."

Chloe shifts on the couch—for a therapy couch, it's actually quite uncomfortable but she supposes that's probably the point of therapy, to be uncomfortable—trying to figure out the best way to describe how she's feeling before she settles on, "But that's the thing Linda, I'm scared he won't process it. I'm scared that I messed up so badly that he won't come back."

Linda purses her lips for a moment, before shaking her head and straightening up, "Alright, as both of your friend, I know that this is hard for both of you. But you need to understand how he's feeling right now, Chloe. Why you sending him back to Hell would've hurt so much."

"I know now it's because he likes his life here on Earth and that it wasn't my decision to force him back."

Linda tilts her head, "But it goes much deeper than that, doesn't it, Chloe?"

"What do you mean?"

Linda thinks for a moment before speaking, "Chloe, why do you think he likes his like here on Earth so much?"

"I don't know, the women, the alcohol, the parties?"

She probably deserves the pointed look that Linda accosts her with, "Come on, Chloe, I know you know better than that by now," Linda chastises gently. And she's right, Chloe does know better.

"I know that this thing between us is something but that can't be all of it." She knows that whatever these _feelings_ that she shares for Lucifer run deep, deeper than anything she's every felt for someone else, but it's as mind-shattering to believe that it's the entire reasons Lucifer stays on Earth as it is to believe that Lucifer is the actual _Devil_. And honestly, equally as bone-numbingly, blood-freezingly, terrifying. She wouldn't even know where to begin with that.

"You're right, it's not all of it. But it's why this hurt so much coming from you. But you're right, that's not all of it," Linda amends, still pushing Chloe to dig further.

But Chloe doesn't know what else is there. She can't possibly know, the man is as enigmatic as he is honest. For every truth he tells about himself, she has more questions. For every answer, she sees new parts of the story that don't make sense. She can't make left from right of it, and she's tired of feeling like she's in the wrong for being frustrated.

She says just as much, "Then, I don't know, Linda! It's Hell, I can't imagine it was great there."

Linda is as calm as ever, "No it was not. Especially from Lucifer, don't you think?"

At Chloe's flabbergasted face, Linda sighs and shifts forward, speaking with a tone as hard as the look as she's leveling her, "Alright, let me spell it out for you. He was forced to Hell, Chloe, by his father. He wasn't given a choice. He was punished for rebelling and forced to do unspeakable things to souls to eons. He was forced to be a monster, forced to be _alone,_ and then he comes here and he has a chance to be something for _himself_. And you would've forced him back to his own Hell. You would've been no better than his father in Lucifer's eyes, don't you see?"

Linda doesn't pull any punches and Chloe can feel herself turn black and blue on the inside as her gut churns as understanding begins to seep in like bad sushi. Her blood starts to pound as she begins to understand.

_(It wasn't her decision to make. She was wrong to do that to him.)_

"Oh my god, I didn't realize, I didn't know."

Linda doesn't let her off the hook and she continues, just as firm as before, "But you did, Chloe. Lucifer has told you about his troubles with his father and why he hates Hell, why he hates being the Devil. He doesn't want to do those things but that's what he was forced to become. Lucifer isn't evil, Chloe. He's done evil things and he'll say he's a monster but when you've been sentenced to do evil and you do because it's how you survive, it's not a surprise that he _believes_ it, especially when he's never had anyone to tell him otherwise."

"Oh god, you're right. Why didn't I see it like that?"

_(He's good but he decayed and she was supposed to be the one to tell him that but instead she threw his greatest insecurities back at him.)_

Now, Linda leans back in her chair, her voice softening as she explains, "Because you were scared, Chloe. And that's okay. I was terrified when I found out. I refused to see Lucifer, refused to see my _best friend_ because she was a demon and I was terrified she would hurt me. But she kept showing me that she was exactly who I remembered and that's what drove away the fear. They're still the same Lucifer and Maze that we know and love."

_(He's still Lucifer, but now she knows why he is the way he is, and she nearly drove him off because she couldn't understand what that truly meant for him.)_

Chloe feels ashamed. "But what if he can't forgive me for being scared?"

_(What if she was too awful to the Devil?)_

Linda leans forward to rest her hand on top of hers, her eyes kind and forgiving and understanding in the way that only Linda can be, as if she sees right to where Chloe's hurting and says, "He will, Chloe. He knew you would run that's why he didn't show you his proof. On some level, he knew how you would react. But he didn't expect _this_ and for that, he needs time. Just give him time."

It takes Chloe a while to believe her.

* * *

**A/N: **let me know what your thoughts are in the comments!


	3. iii

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing. Netflix renew Lucifer for a fifth season.

* * *

In the end, it's because she doesn't blink.

"Lucifer, enough," She sighs, turning the safety on her gun back on and reholstering it. She would've preferred if it hadn't come to this but, well—it was effective. And less bloody. It's much easier to cuff the perp when they're still mobile, just cowering, rather than bloody and dying.

Lucifer turns to look at her, full Devil face on, and scoffs, "But Detective, this scumbag deserves to be punished!"

She grabs her handcuffs and brushes past him, kneeling down to cuff the perp who's incoherently begging for Lucifer to stay away. She rolls her eyes and looks up at Lucifer, "And he will—in jail. We have an airtight case on this guy, there's no way he's walking away anytime soon."

She drags the perp up onto his feet and glares at Lucifer, "Got it?"

He blinks and he's back to his normal face, "Got it, Detective," he murmurs, looking at her strangely.

She squints at him, "Why are you looking at me like that?" He has that look on his face when as if he can't believe she's standing right in front of him, like he's just seen something new and surprising for the first time.

He opens his mouth and then closes it, and does it again before he finally manages, "You seem quite . . . unperturbed, Detective."

A uni comes and collects the perp from her so she turns her attention back to Lucifer. "It's not my first rodeo, Lucifer."

He steps a little closer into her space, and she hates how every cell in her body starts to hum because of it. "You're not scared, Detective." Immediately, the situation makes sense, like understanding a new language for the first time, and she shifts under his intense scrutiny. He's staring at her as if he can find her thoughts tattooed on her skin and she knows in the pit of her gut, in the same place that tells her a suspect is actually innocent or that something isn't lining up, that _this is it_ and she _cannot mess this up_.

So she resolutely does not square her shoulders, does not cross her arms, but just gazes back at him and tells him, "No, I'm not scared." She hopes that he understands what she is saying: that she understands who he is and that she's not scared of him because she believes in Lucifer, her partner, and believes that her partner is a man with many demons (both literal and figurative) and she thinks he's stronger than all of them.

The way his eyes shatter as he takes in her words breaks her heart. Lucifer wouldn't agree, but he is the most emotive person she knows. He wears his feelings on his cheeks, his emotions practically rolling off of him in Lucifer-sized waves. And it shakes her to her core that she put that pain in his eyes.

"What changed, Detective?" He whispers, broken.

She smiles—because of course, he still doesn't know, her silly Devil—and reaches out to touch his cheek, "Nothing, Lucifer. I just needed to realize that."

Lucifer's face scrunches up like he's straining against something inside of him that won't break, "I thought you hated that part of me—the devilish side, the _evil_ side." He's whispering now, as if saying it too loud will break her again, and she's endlessly frustrated that it took her this long to realize what she had done to Lucifer.

She understands now why it was painful for him, why he said the things that he said.

_"But I don't like the way you make me feel either."_

_"You'll never have to see anything monstrous ever again."_

She was his mirror and she threw everything he hated about himself back at him by looking away—by fearing him.

She has to make it right.

She leans into Lucifer's space, "Lucifer, it is a _part _of you. It helps make you, _you_. And well," she doesn't know how to say this part because this part is _a lot_ and it's hard but she has to so she forces the words out of her mouth, "I like _you_."

Lucifer reels back as if he's been electrocuted but she steels herself and keeps going, she _has_ to say this, "Once I realized that, it wasn't hard to stop being scared. You're who you've always been with me, Devil face or not, and now I can see all the parts that make you _my partner_."

"Detective—" he protests but she cuts him off, "You may be The Devil, Lucifer, but The Devil isn't evil, he's my partner—"

He kisses her.

Her eyes widen in surprise at the feeling of his lips pressing firmly against hers, his hands coming to cup her face, gently. Her breath goes and dies somewhere in her throat, and she's shocked only for a moment before she's moving her hand from his face to tangle in his hair and resting the other on his waist, pulling him closer to her, diving headfirst and following her breath wherever it went because it leads her to him.

The kiss isn't very long, or very deep, but when they pull apart, she can't tell who's breathing harder: him or her. Somewhere during the kiss, her eyes had closed and when she opens them, she finds Lucifer's eyes squeezed shut, his face frozen in an acute grimace.

She frowns, "Lucifer, what's—"

He pulls away from her, "I'm sorry, Detective, I shouldn't have done that."

Every kiss, every touch, every dream she's shared with this man, she can feel under her skin, bubbling and boiling and nearly spilling out of her with its intense desire to be felt, to be freed. She _wants_ Lucifer, wants every part of him. She wants the parts that make her laugh inappropriately at crime scenes, the parts that make her furious beyond imagine, the parts that make her vindicated, safe, perplexed, encouraged, protected, _everything_.

She grabs his arm before he can turn away from, "No, you should have. Lucifer, please don't go." She's pleading with him now but something deep inside of her can't bear the thought of _this_—whatever this thing between them is—slipping out of her grasp again.

He turns back to her, "How can you say that?"

She stares him down, "Lucifer, you have to trust me. Take a leap of faith, if you will. I _want_ this. I want _you_. Don't leave again, _please_." If he doesn't stay after all of this, she doesn't know what she can say or do that will make him stay.

She hopes with everything she didn't even know she had that he does.

Because that's the thing about Lucifer—he pushes her to be more than what she is. She was fine before him, she had Trixie and she had her job and she was _fine_. But he makes her job _fun_ and _light_, and helps her see things in ways she had never considered, new angles on both her suspects and her life. He makes her better, and she wants desperately to be that for him, as well. To be the person who doesn't fix his life, but makes it feel right.

Lucifer makes a broken sound, something that barely escapes his mouth, his entire body deflating before he's back in her space, engulfing her in his arms. He buries his head in her neck as if he's planning to stay there, and takes deep, stuttering breaths. She doesn't think he's crying, but he's wrecked in a way that she suspects a lifetime of self-hatred and doubt would do to a person. She wraps her arms around his waist, linking her fingers by his spine, and presses her face into his shoulder. She closes her eyes. She hopes that they can stay like this—together—for the rest of her life.

"Okay, I'll stay, Chloe." She almost misses it, but she's glad she doesn't. It sounds like a promise.

And Lucifer doesn't break his word.

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**A/N: **let me know what your thoughts are in the comments!


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